


Drinking The Lethe

by CourierNinetyTwo



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:25:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: Before she was the Crow, Eileen learned to hunt from Lady Maria.





	Drinking The Lethe

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by funblade!

Eileen had forgotten everything until she saw the Doll.   
  
Memory was a slippery thing, sluiced away with ease by blood, and the force it took to affix a certain event in place often left painful scars. Thus many hunters simply did not bother clinging to the past, not when the present held both trail and quarry, drawing them incessantly further into the dark. There was always something else to kill, and little to mourn for. What relief could there be in recalling what was long lost?   
  
None, and Eileen knew it the moment she recognized the Doll's face, in the same way one recognizes a sculpture of a royal visage: an empty copy, but declaring a power all its own.   
  
She had almost reached out to touch her, driven by instinct to try and pull away the lie of mimicked flesh, praying that Lady Maria would be underneath. That prayer became a curse before Eileen's fingers could so much as flex; sorrow wrapped around her heart like iron strings, squeezing until she thought her ribs might collapse from the pressure.   
  
Where had she seen Maria last? Byrgenwerth, perhaps -- no, there had been times after that -- although Eileen struggled to picture the place, dowsing her mind for long-abandoned details. For so many years, she had kept other names in her head, that of targets and weaknesses, bestial signs and maddening runes. 

The Doll's eyes fluttered open and Eileen recoiled, reaching for her blades. Calloused fingers stalled on their hilts when porcelain lips turned upward in a serene smile, so calm as to be disarming. Maria never smiled in such a way; it was a rare occurrence to begin with, but always full of teeth and triumph, not the restrained mirth of nobility, despite the distant Vileblood lineage weaving through powder blue veins.

Roused to her senses, Eileen asked the question she had come here to have answered. "Where is Gehrman?"

This was the workshop, after all, the place her swords were forged with his direction, but within the confines of this liminal space, it had fallen into disrepair. Corruption without often meant corruption within, and the signs here were far from heartening. 

"Away." The Doll whispered, hands folded low in her lap. "He is a steward for many in this place, after all."

That empty gaze revealed nothing, and by centimeters, Eileen relaxed away from her weapons. "Then what are you, to bear the appearance of a woman long dead?"

Suicide, she heard some time ago, and the thought sent acid rising up Eileen's throat. She had been far away by then, hunting on her own and unaware of what rotten experiments were being carried out in halls of research. 

"I am what I was created to be." Eileen frowned at the words; clearly this puppet had no qualms about being a doppelganger. "And you are a crow who seeks to carry away those who have passed, are you not?"

"How do you know that?" She hissed back, wondering what exactly Gehrman had whispered to this creation. 

A pale hand reached out, brushing down the vane of a black feather protruding from the length of Eileen's cloak. "Because I am a companion of hunters, and you are that which hunts them when the blood sings too sweetly."

"If you are a companion of hunters, did you know her?" The question leapt to her tongue like a wicked urge. "Did you know Lady Maria?"

The Doll's brow furrowed in dismay, for a moment appearing more as flesh than stone. "Only as a name whispered when Gehrman believes I cannot hear."

"Of course." Disappointment swelled in Eileen's chest, threatening to burst.

"But you could tell me about her." Now the Doll's words were gentle as a plea, almost a motherly concern.

"I cannot." Eileen shook her head, damning the truth even as it left her lips. "It has been decades, and I can scarcely remember."

Cold, polished fingers slid from the cloak to brush against the underside of Eileen's mask, tracing the dark curve of the crow's beak where incense and herbs were tightly packed to guard against the sickening scents of spilled bowel and rot. "Try. I will listen."

She closed her eyes, the weight of so many solitary years bearing down, and obeyed.

\--

It was an honor to meet Gehrman. 

Eileen had traveled for weeks in order to have the opportunity, seeking to answer his call when blade and torch were asked for. Everyone had heard of the Hunters apprenticed under his command, those who could wield weapons so powerful and strange most could not even pick them up without slicing off a finger. Her accent made her stand out among the other pilgrims, but that became an advantage when Gehrman asked for a volunteer to duel his finest student.

"Many of the beasts we fight were once trained soldiers, carrying skill beneath their primal countenance." He declared, gesturing to his own blade to emphasize the point. "If you cannot land a single cut on a mortal Hunter, then you will be cleaved to pieces by the enemy."

Eileen called out before thinking of it, although she only had a set of borrowed swords from the blacksmith in her village. Amidst the din of the crowd, Gehrman summoned her forward, directing her to the empty cobblestones in front of them. A woman stepped from his side, wearing a dark coat and vest, their edges emblazoned with gold, and a heavy emerald brooch at her throat. 

"This is my second, Lady Maria." Gehrman said, although his eyes stayed on Eileen's in a firm challenge. "Take care, young traveler. She strikes without hesitation."

Those gathered whispered and gasped when Maria drew a long, strange sort of twin-blade. Eileen pulled out her matching swords, all too aware of their well-worn handles and dropped into a defensive stance. She was ready for a swing in either direction, prepared to counter and strike in turn.

What she was not prepared for was Maria's weapon splitting in two with a flick of her wrists, the fluid movement bringing both saber and dagger to bear. The attack came from both sides in a blinding flash of steel, and Eileen managed a block by the skin of her teeth, sending sparks flying to the stones below. Every strike that followed was horrifying in its speed, a mercurial grace that forced her back a step for fear of being sliced in two.

"Attack me." Maria commanded, and those first words sent a different sort of flutter through Eileen's heart, far from terror and adrenaline. "Your defense will crumple the moment your spirit does if you remain so hesitant."

She wanted to insist it was a lack of haste to match, not hesitation, but that thought alone gave Maria another opening, and Eileen had to bring both her blades together over her head to catch a decisive downward cleave from the saber. It left her stomach exposed, but when Maria jabbed forward with the dagger, Eileen dared to do the same with her knee.

The hard blow drove the air straight out of Maria's lungs, stealing the strength from her knife at the last moment. It pierced Eileen's tunic, but little more, and the faint sting was nothing compared to the triumph of actually hitting back. She retreated with her swords held at odds like scissor blades, ready for retaliation, but Maria stayed where she was, rasping breath becoming a laugh.

It was a warm, rapturous sound, although Eileen couldn't discern the reason until she saw the red stain along Maria's mouth. Blood outlined her teeth, and a stray drop was licked away by the Hunter's tongue. "She caught me, Gehrman."

"With a knee to the stomach?" He sounded more skeptical than outraged, but when Maria turned to face him, Gehrman let out a low chuckle. "You bit your lip and it drew blood."

"Is that enough?" Eileen asked, too shocked to even hope.

"In the last fortnight, not a single challenger has done more than knock away Maria's hat." Gehrman muttered, clearly irritated by his prospects. "I was beginning to think that it was a lost cause."

"You were willing to take a dagger to the stomach in order to land a blow in turn." With a pleased hum, Maria sheathed her blades back together. "That is what a Hunter must often do. You bleed for your kill, you suffer for victory."

"Take her into the College, Maria." Gehrman said, waving her towards the cast iron gates in the distance. "I will have someone else duel in your stead."

Maria gave a sharp nod in turn, then looked at Eileen. "If you have not lost your mettle, then come with me."

She knew a challenge when she heard one, and her blood surged to answer. Eileen returned her swords to her hips and moved to follow, only stopping when Maria drew out a key to unlock the gate. The sound of the new duel drew her attention, and she watched as a broad-shouldered Hunter swung a long, narrow blade at another hopeful from the crowd, its blade tinged with an unusual red hue.

"That's a chikage." Maria said, answering Eileen's question even though she had not spoken aloud. "He's a Cainhurst man, where they are forged. A royal guard, once."

"Another apprentice of Gehrman's?" Eileen asked.

Secreting the key back into a coat pocket, Maria pushed the gates open and began to walk along the narrow path behind them. Eileen hastened to follow. "Yes, although we don't get along particularly well." 

"Why is that?" She supposed conflicts between a teacher's students were unavoidable, but for Maria to so readily admit it betrayed a deep divide.

"We have very different opinions of Queen Annalise." Sarcasm protruded from Maria's words like blackened thorns. "He may have served in the castle, but I descend from her line. I know the Vilebloods better than he ever will."

Eileen realized the  _ Lady _ before Maria's name was not only a polite epithet, and was suddenly at odds at how to address her. That worry became a knot winding her guts around themselves until they reached the towering building of the college. She was about to step inside when Maria caught her wrist, warm fingers right under the cuff of her tunic and pressing against bare skin.

"Your name, traveler." Maria raised a curious brow. "Tell it to me, so one day I may call you Hunter too."

"Eileen." Her surname was of no matter, not to someone of a noble line. "I'm from a village far east of here."

"You would do well to forget that village." That tight hold relaxed, and Maria pushed the front door open with little ceremony. "This will be your home now." 

\--

Training became a brutal fact of daily existence.

Eileen had expected to be taught under Gehrman's hand, but the First Hunter gave more scholarly lectures than lessons on how to kill beasts. In fact, said lectures seemed to be round tables of his oldest students debating one another on any number of scientific and spiritual matters Eileen could barely understand, arguments of Old Ones and ancient blood, of endless eyes and nightmares. 

The first generation of Hunters wielded book as easily as blade, but the second was taught solely to kill. Eileen knew she was one of many bodies recruited to bolster their numbers, but it was difficult to feel any sort of bitterness when it kept her constantly at Maria's side.

They broke their fast together every morning, and Eileen would run over maneuvers and techniques in her head while Maria paged through old journals, eating with one hand and making notes with the other. Then it was time to head to the sparring grounds, where Eileen surrendered hour after hour trying to surpass Maria's swordsmanship.

It was humiliating in the beginning, to realize the noblewoman had been using the smallest fraction of her skill in the initial duel, but Eileen refused to break, no matter how many days were spent bloodied and bruised. The first time she managed to slice open Maria's sleeve, she was so surprised as to nearly end up impaled on her mentor's next thrust, but it was enough improvement to earn the right for a proper hunt.

The Beast she killed was a weakened, ravaged thing, but no less monstrous in appearance for it. When she drew her swords free and wiped them clean, that was also the first time she saw Maria smile.

There were many firsts in the ensuing months, until Eileen was assigned out of the student barracks to a secondary room in Maria's private quarters. She had expected a spartan sort of space, only to find books and runes shoved onto every shelf, stacked on tables to weigh down scrolls and etchings of creatures that made the Beasts look like mere animals. It was then she learned how little Maria slept, how most nights were spent reading by candlelight until pools of wax bled close to her fingertips. 

From the shadow of her cot, Eileen watched the pale crescent of Maria's face, half-illuminated as fingers whispered from page to page. On occasion, she would look down at her own hands, where callouses and scars had built new architecture, and wondered what it would feel like for such a pair to lock together.

She found out the night Maria kissed her.

It was after a horrendous hunt, where half the apprentices limped their way back, some to Gehrman's workshop to mend their weapons and others to collapse into the closest barracks beds. An entire pack of Beasts had seized a town square, slaughtering any who dared near, and Eileen's blades were dripping with gore by the time their infestation was torn from the root. Even Maria had been injured, taking a set of claws to the shoulder, but refused care until they were back in her room.

"I have the dexterity for a needle." Eileen insisted as Maria stripped off her shredded coat, teeth grit to hold back a sound of pain. The shirt underneath was encrusted with a rust-dark stain, but a flash of fresh blood caught her eye when Maria moved. "Enough for stitches."

"No. Hand me the syringe." Maria gestured to a leather case on the table, a lumenflower etched above its brass clasp. "The blood will do."

The vials were some part of the scholars' experiments, ones that set Eileen ill at ease. Rather than obeying the command, she fetched a coil of catgut from her own supplies and a needle carved from bone. While ignoring Maria's disapproving gaze, she thread it with quick fingers, then came over to the chair where the other woman had collapsed.

"Your shirt is done for." Eileen commented, prying away congealed strips of silk so she could get to the wound. "Do you care if I tear it?"

"Go ahead." Maria muttered, staying still as Eileen yanked the remnants of the sleeve free. "This is not what I asked for."

"You want the blood, you can fetch it yourself." She answered stubbornly, leaving the catgut and needle in Maria's lap while searching out a rag to soak and clean the deepest scratches. "A hunter must be independent, mustn't she?"

That received no answer, and Eileen took that as permission to carry on, soft strokes of the rag easing away a clotted mess. When it came time for the stitches, Maria braced her arm against the chair to keep it still, not making a single sound as the needle pierced her skin, ragged edges drawn tight until they met again. Their weapons lay in a bloody pile by the door, so Eileen had to suffice by breaking off the excess catgut with her teeth, spitting it out before setting the clever sliver of bone aside.

"Thank you." Maria said, so quiet it could barely be heard. "Were you injured as well?"

"No, not with you cleaving through four of them at once in front of me." Being split in half didn't always kill their prey, though, and Eileen had learned to prod corpses with her sword before she stepped over them. "But you don't seem pleased."

"I was arrogant, enough to be cut open by some beast that could barely feed itself." Her mouth twitched, the tense line of Maria's lips becoming a frown. "It was the same the day we dueled, you know. I didn't think some village girl had a chance in the world at touching me."

Eileen smiled a little at that. "If it makes you feel better, I didn't think I had a chance either."

"But you've learned well." Maria countered, the compliment almost buried in a cold, serious tone. "Well enough to stake out a hunter's territory on your own."

That stopped her short, implications unraveling like misspent thread. "Are you saying I have to leave?"

"I am saying that you could." The elder Hunter's fingers tensed against the arms of the chair, only for a second. "Although I have not been without company in so long."

Eileen's heart jumped into her throat, stoppered the breath there until she willed it back down. "My lady?"

"Do not call me that. Not here." Maria glanced away, as if ashamed. "I would have you call me by name, as I use yours."

Without another chair to sit on, Eileen could only step closer, until her shadow fell across Maria's lap. The movement drew her eye, and when their gazes met, a white-hot spark ignited in Eileen's blood. She had felt such a longing before, but snuffed it out, buried desire beneath layers of loyalty.

"Maria." It was a mere whisper; she lacked the will for a louder declaration.

Yet it was enough. Slender fingers encircled her wrist, grasped it as they had on that first day outside the college's doors. The pull that followed was a request, not a demand, but Eileen gave in without a moment's hesitation. She straddled Maria's lap, mindful of the wounded shoulder, and gripped the top of the chair, searching ash-green eyes for what would come next.

It was Maria's lips upon her own, softer than expected but ablaze with heat. Eileen let out a strangled sort of sound, shocked but starving, and answered the kiss with every ounce of passion she could muster. A firm hand settled at the small of her back, the pressure bringing their bodies close together as the gesture deepened, stealing the air right out of her lungs. Then a whine creaked its way from between Eileen's teeth, and she felt Maria smile.

"Would you have this continue?" Maria murmured, thumb stroking circles around the foundation of her spine. "I ask only what you are willing to give."

"Yes." Such lusts had woven through her dreams for months, knowing her bed was mere feet away from Maria's. "I offer all you are willing to take."

She was swept off the chair by a burst of strength, Maria's good arm locked tight around Eileen's waist to guide them both to the carved wooden bedframe opposite the seat. Her back met a thick fur spread across the mattress before Maria claimed another kiss, knee pressing between Eileen's thighs and meeting the barrier of black trousers.

"You will have to assist me, then." With a shake of her head, Maria dislodged her hat, exposing the mussed ponytail underneath. "Buttons are a trial with the state of my shoulder."

Eileen seized on the task, undoing the pin at Maria's throat to open the brooch and get at the cravat below it. The remnants of her shirt opened despite some fumbling, and it was cast aside out of sight. While she unlaced the bindings beneath, Maria slipped a hand underneath Eileen's dark tunic, knuckles brushing still-smooth skin as she hiked the hem up over both breasts. Between rough kisses and wandering hands, they were each stripped bare, and Maria's mouth began to wander too.

The graze of teeth along her throat made Eileen gasp, pulse jumping to meet Maria's questing lips. Despite its weakness, the path of Maria's injured arm was no less determined, teasing a reaction from her body wherever it traveled. She was more muscle than softness, corded limbs and a wiry frame, but every touch felt like worship, especially when Maria's stronger hand sought the heat barely concealed by black curls, fingers delving deep.

Everything was slickness and salt, and she could taste the tang of iron on Maria's tongue when her moan was muffled by another kiss. The liquid grace of those constant, curving thrusts bid Eileen's hips to rock forward, as if she could somehow get Maria even deeper inside, testing the tension against scarred knuckles. She came undone with Maria's palm flush against that most sensitive swell of nerves, fluttering in tight pulses around the fingers still working deep within.

When Maria's attentions didn't cease, Eileen clutched at the other woman's forearm, wanting to complete the exchange by offering her own pleasure. "I can--"

"Later." Maria growled, right below her ear. "When I have had my fill of you."

_ Later _ came when the hours of night had melted away, every candle in Maria's room burned to their stumps. Eileen learned what it was like to have the same grip the elder Hunter used for a saber on the back of her hair, how a light bite to the hip could make Maria shiver before the use of her tongue earned a moan instead. By the time the sun came, the pain and exhaustion of the hunt was overwritten by an amber afterglow, lassitude carrying them both to sleep.

It was the first time, but not the last. 

\--

That had come years later, when the Maria she met no longer held Rakuyo, for it had been thrown down a well. Born of desperation and loneliness rather than triumph, they went their separate ways, each carrying the weight of another's sins.

Maria's belonged to Gehrman. Eileen kept that of every blood-corrupted Hunter on her back.

The reminder of her duty snapped her to the present, staring deep into the Doll's eyes. She ignored the churning in her gut at that dull gaze. No amount of artistic skill could infuse Maria's indomitable will into such an object, and no shared memory would ever make a mannequin's life the same tragic reality.

"You did remember." The Doll said softly, calm but satisfied. "Didn't you?"

"To what end?" Eileen asked, unsure whether anger or sorrow cursed her more. "She is dead."

That earned a tilt of the Doll's heavy porcelain head. "Here, perhaps. But elsewhere, I do not believe so."

Shock roiled through Eileen from head to toe, a slow and agonizing reverberation. Such a thought seemed too good to be true, and perhaps it was. "Can I find her?"

"Not in the dream." The Doll's fingers brushed against her mask again, as if she longed to pull it away. "I will pray that after your trials are done, another path will open."

_ Trials.  _ Trials like the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst, who she had once known by another name. It would be a long hunt, one Eileen was not entirely convinced she would survive.

Yet maybe after this long, twisting life, there would be something to look forward to beyond the peace of death.

\--


End file.
